


Don't Stop Believing

by Zaccari



Category: Smallville RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 08:05:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zaccari/pseuds/Zaccari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who wouldn’t want Misha Collins as your Kindergarten teacher? Though Michael Rosenbaum as your dad might be a teeny tiny down side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Stop Believing

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the m2_homegoods fic exchange. earthquakedream was the poor soul that end up with me and I went with her prompt of Mike is a dad that Misha's crushing on I hope she doesn’t hate how it turned out. *grin*
> 
> A huge thank you goes to darling_lisa for beta’ing this and for holding my hand during my many melt downs when this fic just wouldn’t end. katzb101 also gets a huge thank you for the beta and for bouncing.
> 
> The title is a Journey song because this is a fic about Mr Rosenbaum after all.
> 
> Disclaimer: If I owned them I'd be on an island watching them feed each other grapes. Seriously, not mine. I do actually know this. And my sick brain made this all up, I know that as well.

~Misha’s POV~

Oh how I love the first day of school.

Not.

Just because I’m a teacher that doesn’t automatically make me insane. And to love the sheer insanity this today brings forth that’s exactly what you’d have to be – insane. Clinically, certifiably looney tunes. You know, fucking nuts.

C’mon, just picture this as an overview. Kids that want to be here, those that would rather be anywhere but, and the poor, very confused transfers. Even with teachers you’ve got those that love what they do, as well as those that hang around for some reason beyond any comprehension of mine. They’re all here, going every which way and somehow I’m meant to love this?

Yeah. Right.

But, my kids are all kind of separate from this picture, they’re unique. They’re special little cherubs whose minds I will expand and open to all kinds of newness. I’ll teach them how to plan to take over the world.

And eat paste.

That’s right, I teach kindergarten!

No, I’m not one of those ‘hanging around until I can retire’ teachers. I love what I do and wouldn’t do anything else if I could. Really. It’s just going to take a week or two for me to learn to love my new pupils. Because you see, in a week they’ll know that school lets them use scissors and that coming here doesn’t mean they’ve forfeited any right to ever see their parents again. They’ll know that I’m not into eating children and that I read a mean story, even if I do say so myself.

That’s a week from now though, and today it seems like every kid that comes through my bright blue door wants to amputate their parent’s leg by clinging so hard that they cut off the circulation.

“Ready for it all to start again, Misha?”

“How are you even in my classroom right now, Padalecki? I’ve got at least six kids that would bring me down like an injured gazelle if I even thought about leaving their line of sight.”

Jared, the same Jared I think I’m going to have to go Qui-Gon Jinn all over his Obi-Wan Kenobi ass, just smiles like he holds the secret for world peace in his dimples. 

“It’s my year for the good children. You remember those, don’t you Misha? They’ve left their parents before, and they know that mommy and daddy haven’t traded them in for a kitten.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“It’s going on my ‘to do’ list, hating Jared. It’s getting a gold star.”

That smile of his just got brighter.

I really need to learn how to hate him. Surely somebody on this planet knows how to do it? An ancient master in Jared hating located in deepest, darkest Tibet or something.

“How many lovely, little, almost late futures of our country are you waiting on?”

“Three. You?”

“Nope, I’m done. Mine are playing, making friends, they already know the paste isn’t an appetiser. See you at story time, Misha. I’ll be the teacher whose students let him go to the bathroom.”

Forget hating Jared, I’m going to cut out the middleman and murder him. It’s quicker and a whole lot more proactive on my behalf.

I like having a plan.

Ten minutes, two weeping kids and one colossal tantrum later (there might have also been a bird in a fruit tree in there somewhere) my last student is walking in barely making the bell. If he’s a bad one this is going to destroy what little schedule I got around to dreaming up last night over half a pizza and two glasses of wine.

Yeah, I glance at the male holding the little boys hand as I kneel down, but a glance is all he gets.

“I’m Mr Collins and I’m guessing you’re Noah.”

This kid has the bluest eyes. Note to self, do more than glance at his adult when you stand up Collins.

“That’s me, Noah. Rosenbaum.”

He’s smiling, and not holding onto his dad’s hand with a death grip. I like him already.

“Rosenbaum being Yiddish for always running late. Very late even.”

“Da-addy.”

Yes, Noah did just roll his eyes.

“Well, you are almost late, Noah.”

“It’s Daddy’s fault.” 

When I look up, Daddy is actually nodding in agreement.

“Well, since you’re only almost late, you can go play with Julian over there by the blocks if you like.”

I’m going to take his quick hug of his dad’s leg and a ‘bye’ thrown over a moving shoulder as agreement that yes, Noah would like.

When I stand up I get my first good look at Dad. He has eyes that aren’t quiet as bright as his son’s, short brown hair that looks like it’s been combed by his pillow its going in that many directions and an easy, vaguely reassuring smile.

“Michael Rosenbaum, the brat’s dad.”

“Misha Collins, the teacher that isn’t allowed to use the b word.”

That gets me a laugh, thank god. What can I say? Kid’s love my sense of humour, parents, sometimes, not so much.

“I really am sorry we’re late, and it was my fault. I work from home and stayed up too late last night. So that lead to me sleeping through one alarm, only to be woken by the ‘let’s use Dad as a springboard’ back up. I need to work on said back ups time telling ability.” 

“I can help with that one.”

“Oh great.”

Michael rolls his eyes just like his son. Exactly like even.

Oh, yes, work now. Flirting with parents…well, never.

Fuck it.

“Noah’s going to be okay with you leaving?”

“Noah asked three times if it was absolutely necessary that I walk him in here in the first place.”

I’m really, really going to like Noah.

“Okay then, that’s great. Seriously. So we’ll see you or your wife at one for pick up then?”

“You’ll see me, it’s just me and Noah.”

If Michael was going to say anything else it’s drowned out by the bell.

“That’s my cue to go teach.”

“And mine to get out of here. I should warn you though, Noah’s going to very disappointed if he can’t read me a bed time story tonight. See you at one, Mr Collins.”

He’s the father of your future favourite student Misha, no. Really, are you listening to me, Misha, no. I mean it.

Yes, I’m listening, but damn he’s cute.

And Porsche Welling is crying.

God, I hate the first day of school.

~*~

A week later I’m handing out notes, reminding the kids for the fifth time they have to give them to their parents and their parents have to return them. Parent teacher interviews are important, even if this is more a ‘tell me your kid is a genius and not practicing to be a serial killer’ kind of thing.

As I look around the room I know if even half the notes get handed to parents, I’ll be lucky. Noah carefully tucks his note into the front of his backpack, while Porsche Welling has forgotten all about hers in favour of playing with her hair. Beautiful, beautiful kid. So not destined to be a rocket scientist.

The note asks each parent to nominate a time that suits them to come see me. If I can swing it that Michael and Noah Rosenbaum are lucky last, well…I will. I know ethically I can’t do anything, but damn it, I can pretend.

After all, I’m a kindergarten teacher!

~*~

“Hi, I’m Michael, Mike, Noah’s dad.”

“Hi Mike, I’m Misha Collins, Noah’s teacher.”

There’s all of three seconds of silence then before we both start laughing, because, yeah, that much we already knew about each other.

I’m still smiling when I wave at the empty chair on the other side of my desk.

“Sit, please. I kind of thought you’d have Noah with you.”

There’s been no mention of Noah’s mom, either in reality or the abstract, and the part of me that thinks this guy is hot is curious. It’s a very small part. Honest.

“I wasn’t sure if I was meant to bring him or not. Besides, Noah’s already convinced you’re the best teacher he’ll ever have, and he’s just as convinced I’m going to do, or say something terminally embarrassing so he elected to stay over at Chris and Steve’s tonight. Which reminds me, one of them, probably Chris, will be dropping Noah off tomorrow morning, do I need to do anything for that to be okay?”

“Is she on your emergency contact list and does she know the whole morning sign in procedure?” 

What the hell is he smiling about? Because that smile is…all kinds of adjectives I should be able to list but suddenly can’t.

“Christian is my emergency contact list, my family’s in Indiana and New York. I have no doubt that Noah will make sure he knows exactly what to do. He’s probably told Chris about it five times already.”

Christian and Steve? He?

“Oh sh-cr-darn.”

“I think I prefer ‘fuck’ myself.”

“Yeah, but me teacher, cursing bad. I’m sorry for the slip about your friends, I shouldn’t have presumed.”

Mike shrugs, but he doesn’t stop smiling, thank god I didn’t offend him. 

“You weren’t to know. I’m sure you’ll meet Chris tomorrow morning, Noah adores him and has a tendency to introduce him to strangers on the street if he gets a chance.”

Just because the man has gay friends and no wife doesn’t mean what you want it to mean, Misha.

Okay, It’s time to put on my teacher’s hat. But I’m keeping my ‘thirty something and haven’t been laid in long time, horny and lusting over inappropriate men’ on as well. It’s used to being hidden under my proper headwear.

“Tell me about Noah.”

“He’s my kid, Misha, I can ramble for hours. You might want to give me some kind of scope to the information you’re after.”

“Well you are my last interview for the day.” And I have all the time in the world to talk about whatever you want to. “But start with the basic stuff. Home life, like, dislikes, friends, family, you know, anything important I should know. Which doesn’t included how old he was when you potty trained him, that would fall under Noah’s ‘embarrassing’ heading.”

“He was just over three.”

He said that without even batting an eye.

“I asked for that, didn’t I?”

“Yep.”

“I get the distinct feeling you over share a lot.”

“Of course, I’m a parent, and it was in the handbook as one of those things you absolutely must do.”

Why does talking and laughing with this guy have to be so easy? Why couldn’t I have met him at a coffee house? Or a gym.

If I, you know, actually went to a gym. Because I really can’t see Mike in my weekly yoga class.

“Ahh, I’ve heard of the existence of this book.”

Mostly from my mother.

“No kid’s of your own then?”

No.

“You sound surprised.”

“I am. I only have Noah’s say so to go on, but you seem to know what you’re doing with the kids in a way that doesn’t come from books and school alone.”

“That’s just pure trial and error of ten plus years of teaching. My first group of student’s should be just graduating from therapy any year now.”

One of my favourite turn on’s is a killer, warped sense of humour. I’m really starting to hate the universe right now, but Mike’s smiling and, yeah, fuck.

“Well, when you have your own babies you’ll know exactly what to do. Which means you’ll be the exact opposite of me.”

Change the topic, Misha, now.

“You know, none of this is telling me anything about Noah.”

That was way colder than I planned if the wince on Mike’s face is anything to go by.

“Right, Noah, my boy, the reason I’m here. Okay. As far as family goes, you already know most of that. My Dad’s in New York, my Mom’s in Indiana. I have a brother, but he doesn’t have any kids, and I have a Christian. So I guess Noah’s a little light on family there. He spends time with Ally’s family though, that gives him so many aunts, uncles and cousins that he damn near kisses his bedroom floor when he gets home to our place. He doesn’t have any major allergies, hang ups or disadvantages unless you count me, and Noah does sometimes. I am trying to raise him so he has a clue about the Jewish faith. It’s not an overly large clue, but I keep telling myself, and my innate laziness, it’s the thought that counts. So I won’t say my kitchen is as Kosher as my Mom’s but it’s a hell of a lot closer now that Noah’s in my life. Umm, what else? He loves…being older and wiser than he should be at five, Transformers, Irv, our dog, Chris and to my ever-loving horror, The Wiggles. However he hates Dora and Diago and for that I thank God every morning. He wants to learn how to read, play hockey and, quite possibly, rule the world. I write for a living and that makes me one lucky fuck because I can be with my kid all damn day if that’s what he wants. But it also means sometimes I’m up until four in the morning because the voices in my head won’t shut up. Those are generally the mornings Noah and I are running late and I’m drinking a coffee taller than he is.”

Mike thinks for a minute then nods.

“I think that’s about it.”

I have to ask. Really, I do.

“There are no custody issues with Noah’s mom?”

Now Mike’s wearing his version of the don’t go there look I gave him when the conversation turned towards me have children.

“No.”

“Okay.”

Because, yeah, what else would I say? ‘Why not?’

“Is there anything you want to ask me?”

Misha the teacher is taking over, because Misha the whatever he is thinks retreat is the better part of valour right now.

“I know it’s only been a couple of weeks, but how’s Noah doing? I’m not worried exactly, I’m just…”

“His dad?”

“Yeah.”

“You have nothing to worry about. He’s well adjusted, knows not to eat the glue and, while I shouldn’t say this, he’s probably the one student in my class this year that doesn’t make me want to contemplate making valium cookies. Some of them are, well, the best term I can think of is ‘high strung.’ It’ll be a completely different story in about six weeks, but right now my evening meal starts with a generous shot of scotch most nights.”

“So I’m doing something right then?”

In some ways parent’s are all the same, they all have the same question. ‘Please tell me I’m not fucking up my kid beyond all repair’.

“Mike, Noah is everything a five year old should be and then some. You’re doing absolutely nothing wrong.”

I feel like all I’ve done since Mike walked in the door is let my brain wax on poetically about Mike’s smile but the one he has on his lips now is nothing like anything else he’s let me see tonight. It’s beautiful.

He’s beautiful.

And I am in deep, deep doo doo.

“Thanks, Misha. As weird as it sounds, I kind of needed to hear that from somebody that doesn’t know me or Noah.”

“No, I get it.”

And I actually do.

But we’ve reached the point in the conversation where it should be coming to an end because we’ve covered everything the parent and teacher should in this situation. I know why I’m not moving, but I have no idea about Mike.

Of course, that’s when he slaps his thigh and stands up.

“I should be heading off and take advantage of a child free night to get some work done.”

I’d ask him what he writes if he wasn’t already holding out his hand to shake mine goodbye.

“Thanks for your time, Misha. I think I’m almost as happy as Noah is that you’re his teacher this year.”

“It’s my pleasure, seriously.”

Mike’s hand is warm in mine and his grasp has just the right amount of firm.

“So I’ll see you when I pick my boy up tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here.”

“Night, Misha.”

“Goodnight, Mike.”

My thoughts as I watch Mr Rosenbaum, Noah’s dad, walk away? His ass looks amazing in those jeans.

The doo doo I’m standing in is going to get a whole lot deeper, isn’t it?

~*~

~Michael’s POV~

“So I met the amazing Mr Collins this morning.”

I don’t have to look up to know Chris is standing in the doorway leaning on the jamb, just like I don’t have to stop typing to talk to him.

“I sure hope you did, seeing you dropped Noah off this morning. You did pack his lunch, right?”

“No, I sent him off with a fiver and a frozen burrito he can nuke. That’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Okay Sargent Sarcasm, I shouldn’t have asked, but-“

“But it’s Noah. He went off with his Wiggles lunch pale containing his favourite PB and J on bird seed bread sandwich, an apple, those cracker things that he loves and Steve might have slipped him some chocolate dipped cookies as well.”

“Steve did. Sure. Was he even awake when the two of you left?”

“Well, no, but Steve made the cookies with Noah last night, so where else would they be going but to school for lunch? Oh and Michael, The Wiggles? Really? You couldn’t find an Optimus Prime lunch box? Thank god Noah has me, because if it was just you and him, the poor thing wouldn’t have any cool at all.” 

“You teaching Noah how to be cool? Please. You think Toby Keith is music.”

“And you think wiffle ball is a sport, what point are you trying to make?”

“That five year olds think The Wiggles are cool.”

And parents think they’d beat the Spanish Inquisition hands down when it comes to methods of torture.

The sigh Chris breathes let me know he’ll let me win this round, but it turns out it’s only because he’s busy reloading for the next skirmish. 

“So tell me about Mr Collins.”

“Don’t you mean tell you what Mr Collins had to say about Noah?”

This time Christian snorts.

“Please, I already know what he said about the kid. He’s smart, cute, has a killer sense of humour and is just about perfect. All of which is a total given. So stop typing, look at me and answer my question.”

I only meet two of Chris’ three requirements.

“Why? Why are we having this conversation now?”

“Because I’ve been waiting for a clue that the time is right to bring this up and I think I met that clue this morning. He’s not bad looking if you like the dark haired, blue eyed hippy type. And you do.”

“Ally had blonde hair.”

She met the rest of Christian’s description though.

“I remember.”

I do too.

“What’s so special about this guy that you think I’m even interested?”

“I’m your best friend and I know you.”

How the fuck can he see what I’ve barely acknowledged to myself?

“Mike, I love you, you know that, so I’m going to have my say whether you like it or not. Your story isn’t the one about the gay man pretending to be straight, Ally wasn’t your beard or your smoke screen and there sure as fuck wasn’t any ‘settling’ with her to make everybody think you were ‘normal’. You’re a bisexual man who could have fallen in love with anybody and you fell head over heels for Alison. You fucking adored her. I still remember the night you told me she was pregnant. I was so jealous of you that night – because of the baby and because of the fucking glow that was on your face. Christ, the day Noah was born was the most miserable and fantastic day I’ve ever known so I can’t even imagine what it felt like to you. We got Noah, but losing Ally…worrying like fuck over you and being so incredibly useless…yeah, anyway, you did what you had to as a man who just lost his wife and had a new born son and you’ve continued to keep doing it. You know what I also see though? As much as you loved Ally, the fact you don’t date isn’t some misguided loyalty we both she’d smack you for, it’s habit. You have Noah, your work and it’s all safe and peaceful and that’s just fine by you.”

“You’re not seriously giving me the ‘she’d want you to fall in love again’ speech are you?”

“Fuck no, that’s your brother’s job.”

And there you have reason number one why I don’t love going home for Hanukkah. 

“Then what speech are you giving me?”

“A variation of the same one you gave me when I managed to run Steve off for the third time. Love doesn’t present itself how we’d like, on our timetable, wrapped up how we want it, it just turns up. Then it’s our job to make sure it doesn’t leave again.”

“I only just met this guy three weeks ago. And he’s Noah’s fucking teacher.”

“Don’t think I didn’t miss the fact you’re not telling me how fucking insane the idea of you and Mr Collins is, so that makes how long ago you met him irrelevant. As far as the other goes, you’re smart, you’ll work out the teacher thing. Mike, I get that Noah has had to be your number one priority up until now, and I get that some ways he always will be. But he’s getting bigger, and as the years go on he’s only going to get more and more independent, that’s how you’ve raised him. So don’t let him become your number one excuse.”

“I like him, Christian. I have no idea if it’ll amount to anything, but I like him.”

“I know.”

“Fuck.”

“Eventually that’s what happens, you’ll remember how to do it. Just don’t share said fucking with me.”

Finally I look at my best friend and just laugh. I keep laughing until what’s coming from my mouth is just a weird hiccup thing.

“I have walked in on you and Steve before today.”

“And now you know how to knock. Try to teach Noah the same thing without the show and tell element.”

Oh hell yes. I needed brain bleach and I looked into therapy after that little incident.

“I know you’ve been writing all night, Rosey, so c’mon, I’ll shout you breakfast then go get my lazy husband out of bed.”

“You will not, you’ll get back in there with him.”

Chris just smiles and I know I’m not wrong.

“Just think Michael, start dating Mr Teacher Man and you too can have a regular sex life. Your penis is going to think all its birthdays’ have come at once.”

“Sex with something other than my hand would be nice.”

That’s noise that Chris just made? Noah makes the exact some one when I serve him up lima beans.

“I am not your kid, Rosenbaum you don’t have to over share with me.”

“You love it.”

My hand taps the back of Christian’s head as I move through the doorway he’s still blocking half of. He still standing there even after I’ve grabbed my hoodie.

“Breakfast, Kane, remember?”

“Yeah, c’mon, there are waffles with our name on them just waiting for us.”

One thing I always have to give Chris, he might push stuff but he has no problems backing off when he’s said his piece. He said what he wanted to say, and now there’s waffles.

I do learn something over breakfast though. It’s hard to over think and eat at the same time.

~*~

~Misha’s POV~

“Let’s review what we’re learnt shall we?”

I’m sitting here, peacefully, all by myself, reading, or I was. Now I have a sandwich that was on its way to my mouth frozen in midair, staring at the man suddenly standing in front of me. Just what I always wanted - to be ambushed by my very own six foot four ninja Padalecki.

“Close your mouth, Misha.”

My teeth snap together so hard I’m wondering if I’ll be taking a personal day to go see my dentist tomorrow. Oh, yeah, and I finally remember to put my sandwich down.

“What chance have I got if I offer you a bribe to go very, very far away?”

“Try me, whatcha got?”

Oh no, I’m not falling for that. At least not again.

“I’m not as dumb as I used to be, Padalecki, answer the question. If I bribe you, will you go eat lunch with Jensen?”

Jensen teaches music, Jared couldn’t carry a tune even if his ability to do so was the only thing standing between mankind and world peace. They’d be a match made in heaven.

At least Jared’s making a show of thinking about my request before – 

“No.”

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

“Then the secret of the lost pixi-stix stash is staying with me.”

“There’s a lost sugar stash?”

I swear Jared and his sugar addiction, one day he’ll be putting his dentist’s kids through college.

“Maybe. Maybe not. One thing’s for sure, you’ll never know. Not now.”

My desk, third drawer, right at the very back, behind my emergency clean, and dry, clothing.

“I hate you, Misha.”

Now if that only stopped him from sitting down beside me, but it doesn’t. Just like Jared, the hate he has for me is a special kind.

“Right back at you, kid.”

“Feelings!”

What the fuck?

“Jared, what on earth-“

“That’s why I came over here to bug you in the first place, we’re going to discuss your feelings! You almost distracted me, Misha. Bad Misha.”

Oh yeah, we’re going to do that. Over my dead body and Satan wearing ice skates we’re going to do that.

“I don’t remember anything that might even vaguely require the bromance conversation.”

“Noah Rosenbaum’s dad.”

“Still not remembering.”

Also, lying, but what the hey. Though now I do have this visual of Mike dropping Noah off this morning stuck in my head.

Worn jeans, this blue t-shirt that did queer eye for the queerer guy things to the colour of his eyes. Of course that t-shirt also announced that we probably wouldn’t recognise him without his cape.

He looked adorable. Noah looked mortified.

“Earth to planet gay boy!”

There are fingers snapping in front of my face, breaking them wouldn’t be polite, would it? It’s my turn to make a show of something now as I shake my head. It doesn’t remove the mental picture of Mike, but hopefully it looks like it does.

“What?”

“That dreamy little smile of yours says you remember a lot of things, Mishmash.”

“Have you ever looked into medication, Jared?”

“Why don’t you just admit you like the guy, Mish?”

One day I’d like to visit the land where Jared’s brain lives. But knowing my luck the address would be care of Hotel California.

“Where the he-heck would that get me, Jay? Firstly, he’s the parent of one of my students. We don’t know anything about his sexual orientation but Noah’s mere existence is a fairly big clue that he plays on different swings to me. And lastly, he’s Noah’s dad! You remember Noah, right? My student? So yeah, I like what I’ve seen of him. He’s easy on the eyes and one hell of a father. I can admit all of that, so now what?”

When I’m finally done ranting, that’s when I notice Jared’s stunned face. He’s got nothing to say and some other time that would actually be funny. 

“I’m sorry, Jay, you didn’t deserve that. This is a tender topic at the moment, because you’re right, I do like him and it’s been so long since I’ve had that feeling. I’d rather not have it right now though because it’s for an apparently straight man whose child is in my trusted protection for five hours every day. My timing, and my luck, both suck.” 

“I’m sorry too. I won’t push anymore.”

“Thank you.”

I should probably hang around the teacher’s lounge, reassure Jared that I’m not pissed, but I’m not hungry anymore and I just need five minutes away from people.

“I’m just going to go check I’ve got everything I need organised. See you later, Jay.”

Grabbing what’s left of my lunch and throwing it in the trash can I head back to my class room with me, myself and I all trying to work out what we do from here.

Maybe I should start going to the gym, meet a guy I can date if I want too.

God, even my inner voice can’t muster up enough conviction to convince me that’d be a good idea, or even a bad idea, we both want to get to know Michael Rosenbaum and we can’t. Not biblically anyway.

Do I get bonus karma points for living like a monk even if I haven’t been ordained?

~*~

It’s note time again. Working on previous experience half my kids should remember to hand this one over. But consider the subject of it, maybe I’ll get lucky and be working above average just this once.

“Okay my beautiful little people, this note asks if your Mom or Dad can come in next week and help us make chocolate spiders. No Porsche, they don’t bite and you won’t need to eat any fur. Please give it to your parents because if we’re going to cook, I need help. Have a great weekend boys and girls, I’ll see you on Monday.”

Weekends are a gift from the gods. I could worship weekends.

Ten minutes later everybody is gone except Noah. I’ve already checked with the office, Mike hasn’t called and the unflappable Noah is starting to look a little worried.

“Did Dad say he might be late this morning and I missed it, Noah?”

“No.”

He didn’t put the note in his bag this time, it’s held tightly in his hand like he couldn’t wait to give it to Mike.

“Well, I know Rosenbaum is Yiddish for running late but how about I give him a call, huh?”

As he bites his lip, Noah nods. 

“Okay, buddy, I’ll be right back.”

Grabbing my contact list and my cell I head out into the corridor. No, this isn’t because I want my cell to have Michael’s number in it, it’s because I don’t want Noah to hear this in case…well, just in case.

Fuck, answering machine.

“Michael, it’s Misha…Collins, Noah’s teacher. School finished ten minutes and you aren’t here. Call me please?” Then I’m leaving my cell number, before hanging up then start to dial Christian. I only get four numbers programmed before my phone rungs.

“Hello, this is Misha.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

It’s Michael.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry. I was writing and I forgot to set my alarm like I normally do, or I just didn’t hear it go off, I’m sorry, I’m leaving now.”

“No you aren’t. Stop for two seconds, take a deep breath. Noah is worried enough without you getting into an accident because you’re driving like a mad man to get here.”

There’s no argument and I can hear Mike following instructions.

“Noah’s worried?”

“A little. I’m going to go back into my class room now and put him on. You can assure him everything’s okay, you’ll be right here and we’ll be fine until you get here.”

Noah’s moved from chewing on his lip to gnawing down on his thumb. Kneeling down beside him, I smile before pushing the hair back from his face. “ It’s Daddy, Noah,” and I hand him my phone.

“Daddy?”

I don’t know what Mike is saying, but Noah relaxes even as I’m sure Mike is continuing to freak out.

“I’ll be here, Daddy. See you soon.”

Noah hands the phone back to me.

“Mi-Mr Rosenbaum?”

“It’s Mike…oh, you can’t call me that in front of Noah, okay. I’m leaving now, I’m so fucking sorry, I never-“

“I know you don’t, so don’t even worry about it. Just remember what I said before, and take your time. Noah’s about to score an extra story out of me.”

“Thanks, Misha.”

“You’re welcome, Mr Rosenbaum.”

Disconnecting and pocketing my phone I smile at Noah.

“You okay?”

“Daddy didn’t forget me?”

“Not even, Noah. He just forgot what time it was, it happens to grown ups sometimes, because they’re old.”

That gets me the giggle I was hoping for.

“Daddy is old, isn’t he?”

“Ancient even. Now how about you pick out a story and I read it while we wait for Daddy?”

He likes that idea, because there’s no more chewing of random body parts as he jumps up and goes to grab ‘The Cat in the Hat.’ I shouldn’t, I know I shouldn’t, but I’m settling down in the bean bag I keep in the reading area and pulling Noah onto my lap. Mike must have read this book to him a time or two because I’ve only four words out when Noah starts to recite the words with me.

This one, he could be a rocket scientist.

~*~

~Michael’s POV~

I rang Chris on the drive over here, he let me freak out some more then assured me I hadn’t left Noah with any permanent scars by forgetting him today.

Fuck, I can’t believe I did that.

Noah’s going to need therapy and Misha’s going to think I’m a dick that forgets his own kid. Just brilliant.

For the first time in a very long time I feel like I’ve let Noah down.

Fuck.

Standing outside Noah’s classroom I realise I can’t go in there while I’m still shaking, so I’m just going to take a minute or two and remind myself I earn enough to cover therapy bills.

“Mr Rosenbaum, Noah’s Dad, right?”

Who the hell is this very large man, or shortish giant? And is he some kind of authority that Misha had to let know about the dead beat dad?

“Yeah. I didn’t mean too. I’m sorry. I’ve never-“

“Hey, stop. I’m just saying ‘Hi’, I’m Jared Padalecki, the other kindergarten teacher.”

“I forgot to pick Noah up. I lost track of time and I fucking forgot my own child.”

Yes, I’m glancing around to make sure nobody else heard my drop the f-bomb here of all places.

“You didn’t forget him, you just said yourself, you lost track of time. It happens, it’s okay. You’ll spoil Noah a little for the next week or so, he’ll stick a little closer for about the same time frame and before you know it both of you will have forgotten about it. Misha’s told me about Noah, and you, honestly, this won’t be the moment that leads your little boy into gang banging and having a gaggle of ho’s at his disposal.”

“A gaggle of ho’s?”

“Hey, you try coming up with a collective noun for prostitutes on the fly and see if you can do any better. Go give your boy a cuddle and take him home, Mr Rosenbaum, it’ll all be fine. But you could always buy him Chuck E Cheese for dinner to make sure.”

“Thanks.”

I’m not shaking anymore when I reach for the door handle and I can go inside knowing I won’t freak out all over Noah and scare him some more.

“Daddy!”

For a second before Noah launches himself at me I see him in Misha’s lap, safe and something inside me screams ‘want!’ That something sounds a whole lot like Christian.

Right now though, I’m catching Noah mid flight and squeezing the stuffing out of him.

“Hey, baby. I’m sorry I forgot to look at the clock.”

“It’s okay, Mr Collins told me it’s because you’re old.”

Over Noah’s shoulder I raise an eyebrow at Misha. He’s blushing. I wonder if I am older than he is.

“Thank you for explaining that to Noah, Mr Collins.”

“Oh it was no problem, Mr Rosenbaum.”

Noah starts to wriggle then, he wants down. As soon as I let him go, he’s smiling and running to go grab a piece of paper laying beside his bag.

“Daddy, you can help, right? Read this.”

The paper is as close to my face as Noah can get it. Reaching for the note and picking my son back up, I read as quickly as I can.

I’m still only half way through when Misha speaks though.

“The chocolate we’re cooking with will be dairy free.”

“Huh?”

“Read faster, Daddy.”

So I do, and I get the general gist of the conversation going on around me.

“Okay, I get it now. Yes, I can help, Noah. You don’t have to do that on our account, Mr Collins, I can bring a bowl to use, and as long as the dairy isn’t eaten with meat that’s okay and…is that everything or did I forget to answer something somewhere?”

I’m looking at both of them when I ask that question.

Noah just scream ‘yesssssss!’ right in my ear so I put him back down again and he moves to put away the books he was reading with Misha before going to grab his bag.

“I’m deaf.”

“Are you okay?”

We both know he’s not talking about the deafness thing.

“I will be, and Noah has a get out of jail free card for at least the next forty-eight hours. Thank you.”

“It wasn’t any hardship.”

“I know, he’s a Rosenbaum, we’re pretty cool.”

Easy does it, Mike. 

“That you are, except for the music thing. Your son knows all the words to ‘Don’t pay the Ferryman’.”

“It’s a classic!”

“Daddy, can we go?”

“Say thank you to Mr Collins, Noah.”

His ‘thank you’ is mumbled against Misha’s legs as his hugs them and heads towards the door.

“I have to go.”

“I’ll see you next Tuesday?”

“Yeah, you will. Hey, I have to ask, how old are you?”

I’m moving towards the door even as I’m waiting for an answer, I don’t want Noah getting too far ahead of me.

“I’m thirty five.”

“Damn it, I am older. See you Tuesday, Mr Collins.”

If he answered me, I didn’t hear it, I’m running down the corridor and scooping Noah into my arms.

“Hey, baby, want Chuck E Cheese tonight?”

~*~

~Misha’s POV~

“How many parents did you get to ‘volunteer’ for today?”

Yes, Jared did just do finger quotation marks when he said volunteer. Trust me when I say teachers might use the word and they quite possibly let you think helping in your child’s class was your idea, believe me, it’s not.

“I’ve got four, which is just enough.”

“Michael?”

“He’s one of them.”

Jared nods but doesn’t let loose with any innuendo laden remarks. Thank god.

“No lasting guilt from last Friday?”

Noah was quiet yesterday and Mike was at least half hour early for pick up yesterday. When class ended they were all but joined at the hip, but I get the feeling a week from now, Noah will be fine.

And Mike will still be getting here half an hour early.

“Noah’s going to be fine, Mike’s recovering.”

“That sounds about right.” 

All I can do is nod. Yes, this is all perfectly normal and it happens at least one a month across the entire school for various reasons and in all kinds of degrees of severity, but this was different. It’s Mike and Noah.

“Mish?”

“It’s all good, Jay, I promise. I’ll see you at lunch yeah? I’ve got to go make sure I’m as prepared as I can be for today.”

“Ten dollars says some kid ends up with chocolate in their ear.”

“I’ll be lucky if it’s only their ear.”

“Good luck, Mishmash.”

Jay’s laughing as he walks towards his classroom.

Asshole.

~*~

“Okay everybody, listen to me carefully please. Let the grown up of your group hold the container of hot water, then put the bowl of chocolate pieces over the hot water and stir them – gently!”

Please get as little chocolate on the benches as you can, I have to clean up after this and I want to go home sometime tonight.

“Let everybody in your group have a turn at stirring and when your grown up says the chocolate is all melted you can mix in the crispy noodles.”

I’m not playing favourites, I’m walking around watching everybody. I just happen to be standing there when Mike looks up, catches my eye and smiles. It happens exactly at the same time Porsche says, ‘Oops’.

I knew things were going too smoothly.

~*~

Four hours later, chocolate spiders have been made, refrigerated and distributed, and all of my helpers hung around for the rest of the class. But they’re gone now and I’m wondering exactly how chocolate ended up on the ceiling. 

“You need a hand with your housekeeping, Mr Collins?”

Mike.

But he called me ‘Mr Collins’ and that has looking around wondering where Noah is.

“Noah?”

“Has gone home with Porsche for a play date.”

“Oh.”

The look on my face my say more than I wanted it to because Mike starts laughing.

“Porsche’s just like her dad. Good looking to the point of being too pretty and not the sharpest knife in the block, but their hearts are in the right place.”

“You know her dad?”

No shit, Misha, he just said he did. Thank you Captain Obvious.

“Tom? Yeah, we’ve known each other for years. He’s an actor I’ve worked with once or twice.”

I can’t thing of any correct way to say this, so I’m just going to go with the time honoured Misha Collins tradition of just blurting shit out.

“How?”

A little more detail in that blurt would probably have been a good thing though.

“You have no idea what I do for a living, do you, Misha?”

“Other than the generic writing thing, no.”

“I’m a script writer. At the moment I’m one of the head writers on ‘Royal Flush’.”

“The TV show about the brothers that are plumbers?”

Mike nods.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Sam Royal is based on me more than I really care to admit.”

I love that show. Though yay Team Misha because, for once, I didn’t say something that embarrassing out loud. However, something does have me curious.

“Between Noah and writing, how the hell do you get any sleep at all?”

“Hey, I’m not doing so badly now. You should have seen me when Noah was six months old and thought sleep was for pussies. If it wasn’t for Chris, I would have sold him to gypsies. I would have travelled to Romania to find said gypsies to sell him to.”

It’s wrong to be thinking I wish I had seen him then, isn’t it?

“You don’t have to help me, you know. Go home and enjoy the what I’m guessing is rare quiet.”

“Nah I’d go home and start working, and I have to pick Noah up in a couple of hours. So hand me some kind of cleaning equipment and let me help.”

What else is there to do but point him towards the bucket and tell him the benches are his. I’ll take care of the ceiling.

An hour later we’re done and I think my classroom is cleaner than it has been in about two years.

“Thank you.”

“Our kid’s made the mess, it’s only fair one of us helps clean it up.”

“In case you didn’t notice, the group you were in charge of didn’t get anything anywhere.”

“Only because Noah’s used to cooking with his Gramma, Ally’s mom. When it comes to cooking she takes clean as you go to a degree that I think you can be medicated for.”

I know I’m about to stick my foot in my mouth, but, as much as my brain is shouting don’t do it, I want to know.

“You still see your in-laws then?”

Only I could speak when I shouldn’t and beat around the bush at the same time. It’s a talent nobody in their right mind would ever want.

“They live up the coast a bit, but we see them as much as we can.”

All I can do is nod. This whole open your mouth and stick you foot down your throat is a lot easier when you don’t over think it.

“You can ask you know.”

“Wha?”

That was eloquent, Collins. However, despite my stupidity Mike’s still smiling so I guess I haven’t screwed up completely. Yet.

“You can ask what happened with Ally. Better yet, why don’t I just tell you?”

Again I’m doing the nodding thing.

“Ally was an actress on one of the first things I ever worked on. The show sucked, probably in no small part due to my writing at the time, but as bad as that show was, Ally was incredible. I’d never seen anything like her, this little blonde hurricane that just drew you in and the force around her made it impossible to let her go. We dated and married like pretty much any other boy meets girls and boy falls ass over teakettle in love story. A couple of years later we decided to start a family, and Ally’s blood pressure went a little funky while she was pregnant with Noah. They induced her early, but not quiet early enough because she had an aneurism while she was in labour and it became one of those her or him situations that nobody ever wants to be involved in.”

Mike stops to take a breath and I stay silent, because, seriously, what the fuck do you say to that? I’m sorry? Yeah, that amounts to a whole lot of nothing.

“In the end there wasn’t any time to make any decisions, Ally flat lined when they started the caesarean and they just went for Noah. Noah spent a couple of days in the NICU, but they let him out in time to come to the funeral with me.”

“I want to tell you I’m sorry, but it sounds so damn useless.”

Useless being the understatement of the century.

“It’s okay, Misha, really. Well, it wasn’t so okay at the time, but it is now. I don’t get upset for myself anymore, I knew the most amazing lady ever for almost ten years and I wouldn’t belittle that by getting pissy just because I didn’t get more. I do get sad for Noah though. I mean, I show him movies, photographs and tell him stories, but he never knew what it felt like to have her arms around him, or to have Ally kiss him. That’s always going to hurt.”

“You’ve done an amazing job with Noah, Mike. He’s smart, polite…he’s everything a little boy should be. And for what it’s worth my beliefs tell me that your Ally can see that. I think she’d be proud of you both.”

I know I would be if they were mine.

“Not Jewish then?” 

“No, not really. Or even at all.”

“That’s okay.”

For what? For what is that okay? 

Why am I even bothering? He just got through telling me about the death of a wife he obviously adored, and I need to stop torturing myself.

“Thanks for your help, Mike. I get to go home before bedtime now.”

“You’re welcome, Misha.”

Neither of us say anything and neither of us move.

“Go pick up, Noah, Mike.”

“Yeah, I should. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Bye.”

“See you.”

It’s not flirting, it’s not anything. It’s nothing at all.

~*~

~Michael’s POV~

“So are you any closer to telling the hot, hippy teacher you get just as excited about a cock as you do for a pussy?”

“Most people prefer the traditional ‘hello’ as an opening salutation.”

Christian doesn’t expect me to stop editing as he moves around the kitchen making coffee for both of us. He knows where everything is and he makes better coffee than I do anyway. I’m more than a little grateful for the cup that magically appears beside my right hand ten minutes later.

“Can I talk yet?”

“Give me five.”

We both know how it goes when I’ve got a pile of paper in front of me and a red pen in my left hand. Don’t bug me until I say you can. There’s a reason why I never edit when Noah’s home and awake.

It takes me ten minutes, but I finally put down the pen and grab my lukewarm coffee, downing it without coming up for air.

“Much to rewrite?”

“Nah, a couple of hours tonight and I’ll be done.”

The writers I work with are amazing. I come up with the initial draft, they work on the rewrites from the read throughs then we all agree on the end product. The network suits let us do it this way because of Noah, which means I’m in no hurray to go anywhere and they know it.

“So?”

“So what?”

Yes, I have been playing this game for years with this guy, why do you ask?

“Noah tells me you hung around at school the other day to help Mr Collins clean up after the cooking when he went home with Porsche. And while I’m thinking about it, you can’t let Noah end up with that beautiful air head.”

“Noah’s five, Chris. He still thinks girls’ will give him an incurable disease if he spends too much time with them.”

“Good. Now don’t be distracting me anymore. Teacher man.”

It’s absolutely useless to point out Chris distracted himself. This guy is not related by blood to Noah, or me, but my son has a lot of his traits anyway. Yes, that distracting thing is one of them.

“Misha.”

“His name is Misha?”

I nod, then for something to do grab both of our empty coffee mugs and move to refill them. Yes, I’m trying to occupy myself, but I’m going to need all the coffee I can inhale for this conversation. Chris remains quiet while I pour our drinks and when I bring the cups back to the table before sitting back down. I know when Chris is prepared to wait, and that would be now.

“I told him about Ally. It’s kind of hard to follow that kind of information with any kind of flirting.”

It’s kind of hard to do a lot of things after that. Like when you pick up your son it’s impossible not to hold on for a second or two longer and squeeze just a fraction harder.

“I still have faith in you, Mike. You like this guy and if he’s interested you’ll work it out.

Yeah, if he’s interested. That’s not a certainty yet.

“Like you and Steve worked it out?” 

“Fuck no! If you and your Misha take as long as Steve and I did to get with it you’ll be too old to remember what goes where.”

There’s no arguing with that kind of truth, so I just reach over the table and slap Chris’ shoulder.

“C’mon you denial expert you, let’s go pick up my boy.”

~*~

~Misha’s POV~

“So, here we are again.”

Parent teacher interviews are a good thing when you hardly ever see the parent of the kid you want to feed Valium at recess, but when the parent is as involved as Mike is and the kid is Noah, they’re kind of redundant.

“I take it I’m last again?”

“Yeah.”

Oh wow, what a thrilling conversation. I need to stop thinking how he’d look without any clothes on, and possibly minus the owl hat he’s currently wearing (Because his hat has eyes and that’s freaking me out), and…and…

And god, I’ll bet the body under that sweater is fucking amazing.

“Misha? You okay?”

Apparently not at all.

“Sorry Mike, it’s been a long day.”

“Then let’s finish up and you can go home. I’m thinking if you had any major concerns with Noah you would have already told me.”

“No. Yes. Fuck.”

My head falls forward then, my face pressing into the notebook I’m supposed to be writing things in and I hold up my hand with one finger in the air in the universal ‘give me a minute’ sign.

Misha Dmitri Tippens Collins will you please get a grip. Possibly a grip tight enough to choke yourself with.

Taking a deep breath as I push myself back upright I’m attempting to begin all of this again.

“The yes is I would have told you if there were any concerns with Noah when I had those concerns. The no is we don’t have to finish this up, I like talking to you. The fuck was me being a very bad boy.”

“Well fucking is more fun when you’re a bad boy.”

“Mike…”

He chose that exact moment to change the cross of his legs, didn’t he?

No, of course he didn’t. He has Noah, he had an Ally. Mike is not giving me the come on.

Apparently I’m making noises I won’t be admitting too, because the next thing I know is Mike is leaning forward and covering my hand with his.

“Hey, Misha, whatever you’re freaking out about, it’s okay. Slow your breathing down before you pass out.”

Ignoring the hand covering mine, ignoring everything I close my eyes and do what I’ve been taught in every yoga/meditation class I’ve ever taken. Breathe into the base of your spine counting to five, hold it, breathe out counting to five again.

In, out.

Now I have to open my eyes again and face the cause of my almost panic attack.

Great.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m sorry, Mike. I’m tired, and I don’t really have an excuse.” At least not one that I’m willing to share. “But I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I could no more do your job with that many five year olds than I could flap my arms and fly. You’ll always have my everlasting admiration for what you do. But right now you need to pack up whatever you have to and head home. C’mon, I’ll walk you to your car.”

Three thousand or so reasons for saying no to everything he just said are waring for supremacy right on the tip of my tongue so I ignore all of them and start up moving about the room getting my things together. I’m a kindergarten teacher, there’s not that much and about three minutes later I’m ready to go.

“You don’t have to see me to my car like some 1950’s date, Mike.”

“Maybe not, but I want to. So start moving teacher man.”

This is really not why I was looking forward to this last interview so much. Still, I’m locking my classroom door and walking past Jared’s to head out to the teacher’s parking lot. Mike just silently walks beside me. He’s so silent in fact I can’t help wondering what the conversation he’s having in his head with himself is about.

“Penny for them.”

“What?”

He has the most amazing almost laugh, it makes his words actually smile.

“You seemed to be deep in thought and I was wondering if it was anything you wanted to share. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Misha, for fuck’s sake, stop apologising. If I don’t want to answer any question you ask, I’ll let you know. Right now though, I’m thinking about a conversation I had with Chris and him telling me that I’d work out a way to do something. I’ve decided he’s right, and I will. I just won’t be telling him that any time soon.”

This time it’s me that’s smiling.

“I have a Jared instead of a Chris and I’d rather watch an endless marathon of Hannah Montana than admit he’s right.” 

Before I know it, we’re standing beside my old, rather beat up, car.

“Well, this heap of junk is mine.”

“Bug’s are a classic, Misha, not rubbish.”

“Okay then, mine is a classic heap of junk then.”

“Get in your vintage car and go home, Collins. Drive safely and I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

He’d tell anybody to drive safely, wouldn’t he?

When I look in my rear view mirror as I leave the parking lot, he’s still standing there.

~*~

“Uncle Christian says Daddy should start dating again.”

I’ve met Uncle Chris all of about six times and suddenly I really don’t like him.

“Daddy will date when he thinks the time is right, Noah. And you know you’ll always come first, right?”

“I know. Uncle Chris says Daddy needs go get his very own Steve.”

Uncle Chris said what?

“I’m sure that’s not what Uncle Chris meant Noah.”

“Yes it is!”

Noah is nodding kind of violently, and I want to be just as violently sick.

“Uncle Chris said Daddy needs to go get his man and stop playing with himself…then Uncle Chris saw me and Daddy yelled at him. I wasn’t meant to repeat what Uncle Chris said. I’m sorry, please don’t tell Daddy.”

“It’s okay, Noah, promise. But how about you eat your snack now, huh?”

I still want to be sick, and at least I have something to talk about with Mike now. But suddenly I’m hating Uncle Chris less than I did a few minutes ago.

~*~

Jared and I are on yard duty today. We’re walking endless circles trying to look like we’re doing something. So of course, I start a conversation in the weirdest way possible.

“His best friend told him to go get his man.”

One of us should be worried that we both understood not only what I just said, but also whom I was talking about. I’m just not exactly sure which one of us it would be.

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“No!”

The look of confusion on Jay’s face is priceless. But let’s face it, if the man with the most warped logic on the planet can’t follow my train of though, that train has derailed and is on it’s way to becoming a submarine.

“How on earth can that not be a good thing? Unless little ears heard completely wrong, and Noah has to be your information source, he must be into guys.”

“That part is good, I think. It was bad enough when all I had was fantasies because he wasn’t into guys, but now he maybe is into guys, I still can’t date him, and there’s some guy out there his best friend wants him to get!”

“Misha, I love you, but that doesn’t even make sense to me. You really need to have recreational intercourse with another human, and you need to do it soon.”

Ain’t that the truth?

~*~

“Are there no other parent’s you can con as easily as me? Or I am just so special that every time you need an extra pair of hands you think of me?”

That has me nodding like one of those bobbled head dogs that sits on back ledges of cars driven by elderly ladies with blue hair.

“Something about neon paint and glitter brings you to mind, Mike, what can I say?” 

“Nothing. Not one more word or I’m leaving you and your sparkles to the mercy of Porsche.”

“I’m sorry, I’ll be good, please Mr Rosenbaum, anything but that!”

This is me not being cheeky for once, Porsche takes her glitter way too seriously.

“C’mon, Misha, you’ve got about ten minutes before the kids come back inside from recess, tell me what we’re doing with these ingredients that really spell nothing but disaster.”

I can’t argue with that, because even with the best preparation in the world, this will go pear shaped, it always does.

“We’re making kindergarten keepsakes. Jared and I helped them both of our classes make the plaster casts of their hand prints last week and this week it’s time to decorate them.”

Chris picked Noah up every day last week, he mentioned something about Mike being on a deadline, otherwise I probably would have begged for his help with that stage as well. Never mind that Jay and I have it down to a fine art.

“It’s too late for me to tell you I have an appointment to get a lobotomy today, isn’t it?”

“It won’t be that bad, Mike.”

“Misha, it’s kindergarten plus glitter, paint, macaroni and glue it won’t be that damn good either!”

“You chicken shit, Rosenbaum?”

When he puts his hands on his hips and glares at me I have to bite my lip to keep myself from giggling.

“Rosenbaum is Yiddish for tougher than anybody named Collins.”

“My full name is Misha Dmitri Tippens Collins and that’s Russian for prove it.”

“Misha Dmitri Tippens Collins? Did your parent’s hate you?”

“It started out as Misha Dmitri Tippens Krushnic, I changed Krishnic to Collins. It’s easier for the kids.”

“Easier to scream during sex too.”

I might have had a come back for that if it wasn’t for the bell and the sounds of kids rushing to back to class.

But I doubt it.

~*~

~Michael’s POV~

“I’m last appointment again, aren’t I?”

Chewing on his pen, Misha nods then grins.

“Okay this is the third interview we’ve had and I have to be honest, I bluffed my way through the first two. Now I have no damn idea what to tell you.”

You could start with how you feel about blowjobs maybe? Yeah, that thought earns me a mental slap upside the head because we’re meant to be in Daddy mode here, Michael.

“Trust me, Misha, when the teacher doesn’t want to tell you your son has a future as an evil wants to take over the world kind of mad scientist, it’s always a good thing.”

There is one little dad/teacher thing though I want to get out of the way before the hard core flirting starts taking place.

“There’s no fall out from Noah and Julian’s incident last week? I’m not worried, exactly, and I did try to ask Noah about it but the answering look I got was like he thought he was from Earth and who the fuck knew what galaxy I’d come from.”

Julian is quickly taking on best friend status with Noah. Or he was until a slight argument over Uncle Christian not being Noah’s ‘real’ uncle. At least I think that what Noah hiccuped out between tears.

Seriously, how does a topic like that ever come when you’re five?

“I spoke to Julian’s mom, and she was horrified. Mostly because Julian has one or two non-related Aunts and Uncles as well. Both of us spoke to Julian, and…please bear in mind I not even hinting that Noah brought any of this one himself, but Noah was telling Julian how amazingly fantastic Chris is and it upset Julian who thought he was Noah’s best friend. So Julian hit back in the only way his five year old brain could thing of.”

“Scoring a direct hit in the process.”

“Yes, exactly. Since then though, Julian’s apologised. They were a little quiet with each other for a day or two, but today they almost trampled the class while playing elephants. So I’m going to go with that means they’re fine.”

Chris involved with an argument, even if it is by proxy. How surprising.

Not.

“Noah can get a little vocal about his Uncle Chris.”

“I might have noticed that.”

It’s kind of hard not to.

“Then you might have also noticed that Chris is equally as protective of Noah.”

“There might have been third degree type questions that first time Chris dropped Noah off.”

Picture us sitting in a classroom, Misha looking like a canary swallowing cat, and me wondering how much a hit on my best would set me back.

“There might have been what? That was well over six months ago, why am I just hearing about it now?”

Why didn’t Noah spill the beans even if nobody else did? He’s five; he’s not meant to be able to keep a secret.

“Mike, it’s not big deal. I might even use the word cute as long as you promise never to tell the somewhat scary cowboy I said it. You have somebody that’s loves both of you and is looking out for you, that’s how it should be.”

“Maybe, but I’m still letting Noah take every Wiggles DVD he has next time he sleep over at Chris and Steve’s.”

“Which is also how it should be.”

You had better believe it. Revenge is a dish best served loud.

“I still feel like I should apologise.”

“Don’t, honestly, it’s fine. But if you feel seriously guilty, and if I milk that guilt for all it’s worth, you could do me a little favour.”

You wouldn’t have to milk anything to get the world’s biggest favour out of me, Misha. Unless, of course, it was me.

“Little like my Oklahoman, or little like your fellow teacher?”

“This one might be more in line with little like Mount Rushmore.”

“Oh my god, you need a kidney!”

“Nah, I’m good for kidneys, but how are you situated to give me a lung or two?”

“Hang on, I’ll cough one up.”

I might have mentioned this to Chris one or two dozen times, but I seriously love that Misha gets my weird assed sense of humour. Right now he’s trying like hell not to laugh ay my sheer corniness and it’s a battle he’s losing. His laughter is infectious though and before I know it we both have tears rolling down our cheeks.

If Noah were here right now he’d be rolling his eyes at both of us pretty much continuously.

“You do know I’m meant to be all serious and teacher like during these interview, right?”

“Serious, schmerious. I promise I won’t tell anybody if we talk about something not child related and you actually enjoy the conversation.”

“Believe me, Mike I look forward to any of our talks, even if they’re just about your insane collection of t-shirts.”

You should have seen Misha face the day I wore my infamous, in our circle at least, ‘I love my wiener’ shirt.

“C’mon, my tops are the coolest.”

“If you say so.”

“I believe I just did.”

The look on Misha’s face tells me he’s wondering how we ever ended up having this particular conversation, so I’ll take pity on him.

“Okay, Misha, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll volunteer to help with whatever evilness you have planned for the kids and need parent helpers for if you tell me one thing about Misha the man, not Mr Collins the teacher.”

For a couple of minutes Misha’s quiet, but that’s okay, despite what Chris and Noah think I can wait. I’m not overly good at it, but I can do it.

“I’m gay. It’s not a huge secret, the staff here all know, but I guess I don’t broadcast it to the parents just in case. I was married once to my best friend, the only problem was that’s all Vicki was – my best friend. I still see her, and I still love her, but we should never have gotten married. So I’m a divorced, gay man which I think makes me a Californian stereotype.”

Misha shrugs and I’m still struck speechless.

“For something not so heavy, I’m originally from New England. Maybe I should have started out with that Misha fact instead of the whole Vicki/gay thing. Yeah, that would have been a good idea. But I’m just going to shut up now.”

The problem is I know I have to say something, I’m just not sure what. Though I do have this voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like Chris saying ‘hit on him’ over and over. Just like the real version of Chris that voice has crap timing and not a drop of tact.

“I’m sorry.”

I really don’t think that’s what I meant to say.

“Mike, look what you and Noah have been through. All I did was get divorced.”

“They’re two totally different things, and you can’t compare them. It’s not a game of my pain tops your pain, because it all still hurts. I’m sorry you got hurt, Misha. Thank you for telling me though, all of it.”

“Thank you, and I’m strangely happy now that you know everything.”

Down, Michael. If you do something now it’ll have Kane timing and that just never turns out anything even vaguely close to good.

We both go quiet again then, but it’s not awkward, just us settling our thoughts of respective once partners down. 

“So, tell me what I’ve let myself in for, Misha.”

I think we should call an end to any form of flirting tonight.

“Oh, yeah. Christmas concerts!”

“Misha, I know you’re the school teacher and all, but you do realise it’s February and I’m Jewish, don’t you?”

Ooo, Noah would be proud of the death glare Misha is currently giving me.

“Yes, Michael, I am kind of aware of both of those. Just like I am aware that schools in general have banned the whole Christmas/Festive/Celebration pageant thing. But kids like to sing and they like to perform and I like encouraging that. So I want to put on a little concert for the kids to show off to their parents.”

I have a sinking feeling I know what information my son has seen fit to share.

“That all sounds great, but?”

“But, I can’t play any kind of instrument. Normally I’d ask Jensen to play, our music teacher, because he’s helping Jared and I with setting everything up, but he’s busy the night of the actual performance.” 

“There’s no chance you’re going to let me volunteer Chris to do this, is there?”

“Nope.”

Noah Owen Rosenbaum, you room had better be spotless for the next month. Because as much as I like Misha, I don’t play guitar for, you know, people that aren’t my son.

“Whatever Noah’s told you, I play guitar as a hobby, meaning I’m not even close to great at it.”

“Michael, you’ll be accompanying five year olds singing about the wheels on the bus. What on earth will great, or even bearable for that matter, have to do with anything?”

Well, when you put it that way…

“Can you get your music teacher to give me some sheet music so I at least know what I’m playing?”

Misha fucking beams when he hands over a lovely, already prepared folder.

The sigh I let loose is utterly defeated.

“When do you want me here, how often and when is the show?”

“The show is three weeks away, and we’re going to be rehearsing for an hour on Tuesdays and Thursdays. If you could come to the practices that would be great. Jared and his class are with us, and Jensen will be there. It won’t be that painful.”

Who exactly is he trying to convince here? Me, or himself? But in reality, what am I going to do, say no?

“Yes, it will be, but at least I won’t be suffering alone.”

“You’ll do it?”

“Please. You always knew I would. C’mon Collins, get your stuff together, before you talk me into anything else, we’re leaving. And this time, you can walk me to my car.”

~*~

“Okay, I have one question.”

There are fifty in no way silent kids showing who knows how many parents, grandparents, and special friends to their seats. In fact I can see Noah talking Chris and Steve’s ears off. Me, I’m standing off to one side with the two people supposedly in charge tonight. They’re both smiling kind of manically, I’m just wondering if it’s too late to suddenly develop a case of typhoid or something.

“Question away, Mr Rosenbaum.”

Misha sounds so formal and so fucking cute.

“How do you guys do this day after day with this many kids without the aid of alcohol or narcotics?”

“Who says we do? Or should that be don’t?”

“You’re the teacher, Mr Collins.”

“Well, Mr Rosenbaum-“

That’s as far as Misha gets before Jared mutters something about ‘crazy people’ and shifts closer to Gen, the art teacher that helped us with what in another universe might be called sets.

“Mike, you know it’s normally nothing like this, don’t you? The kids are hyper tonight because they’re performing, and the only time during a normal day when we’d combine the classes would be for story time. Tonight’s insanity is temporary.”

I hope so, or I’ll be slipping drugs into Noah’s cheesebuger.

“I get that, but still, some days I can’t even cope with everything Noah needs attention wise and you have twenty five Noahs for five hours a day. You amaze me.”

The look on Misha’s face softens into something a little more real.

“If I have twenty five Noahs my job would be easy. Mike, we have plans and resources and parents who come in a play guitar when they’d probably rather be on the other end of a dentist’s drill without any anaesthetic. And kids want to impress us, so for most of the time, they’re on their best behaviour. Raising children from scratch teaching them everything they need in life, not just in school and having them turn out okay? Mike, the amazing thing is the parent’s.”

“So far, I think I’m doing okay.”

“I think you’re a notch or two above that myself.”

Jared’s moving back towards us and the kids are starting to gather at the front of the room like Misha and Jared asked them too when the clock hit seven. It’s show time I guess.

“Ready, boys?”

My guitar is already on its stand over there by the chair that’s set up for me, so I’m as ready as I getting.

“I’m going to take my seat, and remember what we practiced Mr Padalecki. You can mouth the words, but keep all the singing inside your head.”

There’s more muttering and some laughing as I walk away. Jared’s almost as cool as Misha when it comes to the teacher thing, but when it comes to him singing? I’d rather listen to The Wiggles.

~*~

“Did you see me Uncle Chris? Did you see Daddy, Uncle Steve? He’s not as good as you are, but I was cool, wasn’t I?”

Chris and Steve are assuring Noah that he ruled the show, all I can do is grin because that’s kind of what every adult in the room is doing right now. Noah’s hyperness is almost off the scale but I can see the tell tail signs of a crash that’s about an hour away at best.

If I’m lucky, we have time for Mickey D’s drive through before it happens.

“Daddy! Uncle Chris said I was outstanding.”

“You were, bud, absolutely amazing. But right now it’s time to say thank you and good bye to Mr Padalecki and Mr Collins. Uncle Chris and Uncle Steve are coming back to our place for dinner so they can tell you some more how great you were.”

Chris has a camera. Nobody does show and tell like Christian Kane, believe me.

“C’mon, Daddy!”

Noah grabs my hand and all but drags me towards his teachers, but he’s a good kid and lets both of them say goodnight to the other parent’s they were walking to before speaking.

“Thank you Mr Collins, thank you Mr Padalecki. Tonight was super cool.”

The highest rating on Noah’s scale, damn he did have fun.

“Did you thank your dad as well, Noah? Our concert wouldn’t have been as much fun without music.”

Arms wrap around my legs and squeeze as hard as they can as ‘thank you, Daddy’ is mumbled into my jeans. Stroking my hand over Noah’s head, I bend down and pick him up. He’s almost too big to be carried, but only almost.

“I had fun, the kids had fun, I think I’d call tonight a success.”

“Me too.”

It’s Misha that answers me, Jared is wandering off again. He’s got a bad habit of that.

“I’ve got to feed this little monkey and get him to bed before the meltdown. Thanks for everything, Mr Collins.”

I want to say more, but I can’t. Not now, not here.

“See you Monday?”

“See you both Monday, Mr Rosenbaum.”

“Night, Mr Collins.”

That was Noah and he’s fading fast.

Misha moves off to talk to the Wellings, and Chris picks up my guitar.

“Mickey D’s, No-man?”

There’s a nodding moving against my shoulder as we’re walking out the door.

Tonight really was a good night.

~*~

~Christian’s POV~

“Uncle Chris?”

My favourite little man is standing in front of me hoping from foot to foot. This should be fun.

“Noah?”

“Please don’t growl at me, but I can ask a question?”

“C’mere, squirt.”

Lifting Noah onto my lap, for a second I wonder how in hell he’s five already. But it is just for a second because I really want to know what this question is.

“Okay, firstly? If you tell a grown up not to get mad at you they tend to get madder a whole lot quicker because they think you’ve done something really, really bad. So, maybe don’t say that even if you have done something horrible. Secondly, squirt, you can ask me anything you want too.”

Noah is wearing his serious face. I wonder if this is something I’ll be able to embarrass Rosey with later?

“You love Uncle Steve like he’s your girlfriend, don’t you?”

Dear god, I hope not. Steve would fucking kill me.

“Sort of, Noah, I guess you’re right. See, I still think girls will give me cooties, so I have a Steve instead of a girlfriend.”

“Could Daddy have somebody like an Uncle Steve?”

Imaginary Mike is inside of my head in a split second and he’s screaming ‘tread carefully!’

“Okay No-man, I’m not sure if I know exactly what you’re asking here. Do you mean can Daddy have somebody to date and sleep over in his bed? Somebody that could be a girl? Or are you asking if Daddy could have a boy to do all of that with like I do?”

I think I said that right.

“I think Daddy should have Mr Collins. Mr Collins makes Daddy smile – almost as much as I do.”

I think this kid is a genius.

And yes, I can embarrass Mike with this. Bonus.

“I think that’s a good idea, squirt, and when Daddy gets back from his talk with Mr Collins we should sit down and tell him exactly that. Cool?”

“Cool!”

I’m more than a little familiar with the new look moving onto his face now though.

“Uncle Chris?”

“Yes, Noah, you still have to have a bath.”

“Rats!”

~*~

~Misha’s POV~

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

This is it. Mike’s never going to be sitting on the other side of my desk as one of my kid’s parents ever again. Normally, I’d be bouncing at these interviews because the school year is almost over and the holidays are so close I can taste the too much beer I’ll drink on my first free weekend. But this year it’s all a little different.

Apparently though, Mike just wants to launch into everything.

“Everything’s okay with Noah? He’s ready for first grade?”

That question makes me want to laugh with a vaguely hysterical edge.

“Mike, Noah has been ready for first grade for the last six months. He’s very annoyed at me because I only taught him things he already knew, like his ABC’s, and not how to turn those letters into words like his daddy does. Trust me when I say he’ll take to school like a fish to swimming. He’s beyond ready. And while I’m not saying he won’t miss you picking him up at one those first few days, he’s going to love it.”

The shoulders in front of me sag with utter relief and Mike lets go of a long breath I don’t even think he knew he was holding on to.

“Thank god.”

“You were worried? Seriously?

“Well, yeah. He’s my kid and I think he’s amazing, but that doesn’t automatically mean he actually is.”

“I think he is.” 

“Please, Misha, you’re as biased as I am.”

I haven’t been obviously playing favourites, have I? Have the other parent’s seen it? Do they think I’m useless? A bad teacher?

It’s the hands framing my face that stop my panicked thoughts.

When did Mike move?

“Misha, it’s your turn to believe what I’m telling you, okay?”

All I can do is nod.

“You’re a great teacher and not one parent thought you were awful, or playing favourites or anything else you might be thinking.”

Either Mike can read minds or some of my thoughts spilled out of my filterless mouth. He’s not giving me a chance to say anything though, he just keeps on talking.

“The only reason I saw what I did between you and Noah is because I was looking for it and hoping like hell to find it. I can’t date anybody that doesn’t love my son as much as I do.”

“Date?”

“Yes, Misha, date. I knew we couldn’t do anything out in the open while you were Noah’s teacher, but in my head, and in our own special way, we’ve dating since about November.”

There’s an endless list of things I could say here, but I don’t care about any of them. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do since August.

My hands settle on Mike’s waist before sliding around and down to his ass, pulling him close enough that I can finally, *finally*, cover his mouth with mine. For a second or sixty, who knows and who cares, it’s just the press of a closed mouth against another, but then Mike’s lips part and I know the taste of that first beer of summer isn’t heaven, the taste of Mike is. There’s coffee and mint and Mike as his tongue slides over mine. Truth be known I wouldn’t care if he tasted of onions and garlic. When we have to pull back the contact still isn’t broken completely. I’m biting at his lower lip, Mike is nipping at the corner of my mouth. His hands haven’t moved from my face, but I think my fingers are going to leave bruises.

All too soon the kissing stop, but I forgive Mike when he leans his forehead against mine.

“That was worth waiting for.”

“How much longer do we have to wait for more? Because if we’ve been dating since November nobody could accuse me of putting out too soon.”

There’s a ghost of a kiss over my temple.

“That’s up to you, Misha. There’s still ten days of school and after all this time I won’t jeopardise your job because I can’t keep it in my pants for ten lousy days.”

“We should wait.”

I hate being a grown up.

“Okay, we’ll wait.”

I have one of those questions that now is not the time to ask, but I’m asking it anyway.

“Mike…you were married, you loved Ally, I know you did…”

“So why am I kissing you and wondering how much I’m going to enjoy having you in my bed? Misha, I’m that greedy bisexual thing, and I fell in love with Ally because of who she was, not what equipment she did or didn’t have. And I still love her, I always will. Now though, I’ve been lucky enough to fall head over hells for somebody else and the fact he has a penis and not a vagina is completely irrelevant. Because this guy isn’t jealous of Ally, loves my son, laughs at my jokes and not my owl hat. He also has these amazing blue eyes, a killer body and that’s the important stuff.”

“I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to wait.”

“We’re going to though.”

Fuck. No, seriously, there could be fucking tonight.

“You’d better make sure Noah’s staying at Chris and Steve’s the night school ends.”

“Already organised. Chris is on your side.”

“You mean our side, Mike.”

I’ve waxed lyrical about Mike’s smiles more than I’ll admit to this past year, but the smile on his face right now is the definition of the word radiant.

“I like the sound of that Mr Collins, our side.”

“Me too. But Mr Rosenbaum, if you’re not putting out tonight you have to take your hands off of me and go back to sitting on that chair over there.”

With one last lightening fast kiss, Mike moves steps back out of my grasp but he’s not sitting back down.

“C’mon Misha, I think you’re about done here. I’ll walk you to your car.”

It takes me less than five minutes to pack everything up. Two minutes after that I’m walking beside Mike smiling to myself just because I can.

“You look so smug right now, Misha.”

“I feel smug. I met this guy I’m more than a little crazy about and I have it on good authority he likes me too.”

“He does.”

The last of Mike’s words are spoken as we reach my car. I really wish I’d parked at the other end of the lot this morning.

“Go home, Misha. Drive safely. And answer your phone in about half an hour.”

That surprises me.

“You have my number?”

“I’ve had it since that day I was late picking up Noah and you called me. I kind of stored it.”

“Oh.”

Articulate, that’s me.

“C’mon Misha, I can’t call you for phone sex if you don’t leave and go home.”

“You are for real, right?”

“Absolutely, Misha. I am one hundred percent real and one hundred and ten percent fucking nuts about you. Will you leave already?”

I’m still laughing when I pull out of the parking lot, but when I glance back this time, Mike isn’t waiting and watching in the dark.

Sure we have to wait until the school year is done, but that’s easily done. 

Waiting for something when you know it’s a sure thing to arrive? It’s right up there on my list of best things ever.


End file.
